


Voyeur

by savaged



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Grinding, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Pre-Threesome, Real Madrid CF, squaaad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 07:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2380457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savaged/pseuds/savaged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things you can't really talk about while watching someone you really like getting owned. Yeah, there are things Cristiano's really bad at.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voyeur

**Author's Note:**

> Go ahead and play Grind On Me while you read this. enjoy :)

Cream and chocolate hands caressing strawberry flushed skin as their heart beating matched incoherent paces.

James took a deep breath and released it slowly and carefully to calm himself down. So did Marcelo, only that he blew the hairless back of James' neck with it making the boy shiver as he sat down squatting on his strong lap, whimpering at the touch of Marcelo's erection against the curve of his bottom. He jumped a little, effervescent and somewhat surprised he had been able to cause that reaction in the older man, proud even, and he blushed. He blushed hard.

He bit at his bottom lip, waiting for the hand of the elder to grab his butt cheek slap like he had always expected for this moment, and used his other hand to pull the short, tidy black hair with strength. Marcelo was making his back arch almost impossibly, bringing his head back to meet with his shoulder.

The boy made a huge effort to keep his styled sensuality intact, his back straight, but the way Marcelo wanted him to behave was totally new to him and if this was what the man -and a man in general- wanted, then James thought he'd go far to meet his expectations. So he spread his legs a bit, the sides of his thighs meeting the inner warm thighs of Marcelo as he relaxed down on him, two strong hands pulling up from the edges of his white shorts.

The meaty lips of his brazilian teammate hovered on his right earlobe. His voice husky, filled with commandment and firmness, like the guy wasn't gonna make himself wait and at the same time he didn't want James to, ordered 'grind on me' in the lowest key James could think off. And it made him close his eyes and lift himself a little from the couch resting his hands on Marcelo's thighs, going down with a soft sway. He slid up through the hard on and pressed on it, feeling the shape of the brazilian's cock against the back of the elastics of his shorts, and as he was facing forwards he watched Cristiano from the corner of his eye.

The man casually slipped a hand under his underwear and wrapped it around him, jerked himself once, slowly but constant, licking his lips but looking bored from it all. He gazed James' body mostly ignoring Marcelo, the ways it moved up and down with grace like he had done this so many times. He hadn't, of course. Maybe Marcelo and him were pretty much bullies after all, and grabbing a teammate to make him go through this had been the less moral thing they had done ever, but it was something unplanned and James had agreed to it. Like 'okay,' and 'I'm cool with it' once Marcelo had joked about it. Cris had opened his eyes wide in surprise and amusement, a smirk drawn on his lips. Marcelo had laughed.

James hadn't. James had had the same face as now, chewing on his lips anxiously, trying to fit in the rhythm Marcelo established to make the colombian grind down harder each time. He grabbed him down by the hips panting after a minute, and told James something Cristiano wasn't able to hear.

The boy stood up and turned around, putting a knee on each side of Marcelo's legs upon the couch, his chest at the height of Marcelo's face, and slowly took his shirt off tossing it to the ground with a lazy movement. He wrapped his arms around Marcelo, and the brazilian buried his face in the hollow of his neck sucking on his pale skin, guessing he was leaving a hickey and moving his tongue around, hungry. James lost steadiness and sat down, making their clothed erections rub.

Cris watched James' face of satisfaction with closed eyes that only opened to glare at Cristiano's, and the guy was eager enough to smirk at the world-widely known number 7. Cristiano had to hold a gasp in his throat. He wanted to be the one under James, not Marcelo. Meaning, Marcelo did want to be himself under James at the moment, a lot. But Cristiano got even jealous, and still holding his glare, he broke it to look down at his own lap and stroked himself, then back at James. The boy was looking through half lidded eyes filled with lust and moved his lips to Cristiano, wording a soundless 'what?' while Marcelo ran his tongue through his neck reaching his chin and stopped to nibble there. Cristiano licked his own lips, Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

Marcelo put a hand on the boy's hip. He had noticed the youth starting to grind against him by own initiative, fast impatient thrusts and so the man steadied him with a soft hush and a 'hey, relax,' running a thick finger through James' pink lips, stopping it in the left of the nubs of his nipples. He pinched it, making James moan and blush from him doing so and avoided his stare from Cristiano this time, embarrassed for getting aroused. His groans were unavoidable at this point.

The name of the Real Madrid's brazilian player left James' mouth loudly and sonorous, which irritated Cristiano getting him near to the edge of standing up and leaving. He took a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily, trying to act cool and putting a leg on top of his other knee, but how can you possibly act cool when you're watching a partner take such care of a boy like James? Cristiano was dying to yell at Marcelo _leave him alone_ and _that's not how you do it_  because the rush of possessiveness taking over him was reaching its peaks, and also because James kept frowning when he looked at Cristiano, making pout faces, licking his lips while bouncing on purpose on top of Marcelo.

The tanned man only had eyes for the figure of the colombian and his small shoulders -in proportion to him and his other friend,- his high pitched whimpers, and since he had wrapped his arms around Marcelo and stayed like that his dick had remained unattended. So was Marcelo's. The latter took hands into the subject.

Cristiano's eyes fell towards where their navels met, when Marcelo pulled down James' shorts exposing the beginning of a trail of recently shaved pubes, the dark hand contrasting on pale skin, and Cris' grip on his own dick tightened when he glanced James' hard-on out of his clothes. His eyes rolled up through the comely body meeting James' big pupils again and to his surprise, the guy was staring back.

'What are you looking at?' Cristiano began. Marcelo wasn't paying attention as he was busy exploring James' intimate parts.

'You.' James jerked his head back when Marcelo decided to test him and run a thumb through the slit of his head. He came back to his normal position. 'I want you.'

'I know.'

Cristiano's understanding of the spanish language had evolved into something totally new. Getting lost in the shape of James' lips and focusing in reading them at the same time felt like the most important accomplishment of the week. He touched himself and imagined James' mouth on him, and nearly coming he watched James' come first by Marcelo; he watched the length of his eyelashes caress the cheek of the brazilian when he gave up all strength and both melted into one, James resting his head on Marcelo's shoulder who started giving him butterfly pecks all over his temples.

Cristiano rested his back on the couch in the meanwhile. His hand was sticky but out of his pants and he used the black cloth he was wearing in his neck over his white polo to clean himself. He watched James' mouth open catching air from Marcelo's neck, only wearing shorts and with Marcelo's hands still between them, caught between their bellies, their heavy afterglow.

"Guys" he called after he got no reactions. Marcelo lifted his head a bit, a smirk pressed over his lips.

"Yeah?"

"See you later?"

Marcelo nodded straightening to run a hand along James' lower back, giving him the signal to get up slowly. He conserved pretty much of his elegant moves even after that and Marcelo felt the luckiest guy in their squad watching a sweaty, flushed James pick his shirt up from the floor.

They would talk about south american and european summer after that, ignoring the way the eyes of Cristiano gazed the guy sitting on the coffee table while talking and checked his phone afterwards, the way his cheekbones took a redder color than the usual, his raspy, awkward and impatient laugh and the fact that it was difficult for him to talk and his tongue tangled twice during the same phrase. Marcelo threw him a glance.

"Weren't you leaving?"

"I was gonna drive him home."

James looked up and widened his eyes. "Oh! Right! Sorry, my bad," the boy shook his head smiling and stood up, offering a hand out to Ronaldo to do the same. Cris looked down on him and refused the invitation, standing up on his own and guiding him towards the door under the rough stare of Marcelo.

"Call me if anything comes up, James."

"Yeah, thanks! I will" and with the same smile written all over their faces, with their friendship strengthened through years of practice, James broke them apart.


End file.
